


by any other name

by muselives



Category: Almost Human, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muselives/pseuds/muselives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two types of AI consider what it means to be human. [Porn Battle XV, Crossover, Almost Human/Tron: Legacy, Dorian/Quorra, human]</p>
            </blockquote>





	by any other name

**Author's Note:**

> Posted for Porn Battle [here](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/65746.html?thread=9319122#cmt9319122). Spoilers through the first season of _Almost Human_ and for _Tron: Legacy_. Unbetaed.

Her boots swing back and forth, in and out of his range of vision from the corner of her eye. It's just the occasional kick, enough to keep her moving between bouts of momentum. Her legs are long but Rudy raised the table up high enough that she can still comfortably swing her feet. 

It seems to be her only tick; she's been still and silent otherwise. He can still remember that first day of his reactivation, blowing air between his lips as he watched the highway flow by. She's answered questions readily enough but she seems to be all talked out for now. He can't say he blames her. It's been a long, long day.

Just when he thinks he's got a handle on her patterns, she slides back on the table so her heels are just over the edge. She lays down with her hands folded over her stomach, blowing out a heavy puff of air.

"Are you alright?" Dorian asks, watching her breathe.

"Just tired," she answers even though her eyes stay open for now. He's pretty sure he sees a few slow blinks that corroborate her statement but she could just as easily be lost in thought. Eventually she turns her head and meets his gaze with clear blue eyes. "Do you get tired?"

He thinks back to that whole low charge debacle and answers, "Yes, I suppose I do."

She smiles. "Do you need to sleep?"

He decides to take this figuratively and shakes his head. "Rudy should be back soon."

"Rudy isn't a cop."

Now that is an interesting observation coming from her. She's been extremely cooperative up to this point which is why John agreed to let him escort her alone while he looked into this ENCOM business. No one really believes her story about being a spontaneously generate program somehow rendered into human form-- but there's something strange enough about her DNA that Rudy has taken his readings to an outside source for a consult.

She pushes herself back up, turning so her feet are dangling over the side of the table this time. The asymmetrical line of her hair seems even more pronounced as she tilts her head to regard him. "Are you going to keep me here if I want to leave?"

"Do you want to leave?"

Having her question turned back around only makes her smile. "I want to go home. Without ENCOM and the laser, I don't know how I can though."

"Back to the Grid," he repeats back, demonstrating that he's been listening to her story as she's laid it out every time.

"It's where I belong." Looking down at one of her hands, she adds as she clenches her fingers, "It's funny. On the Grid, I wondered what it would be like to be human, but now that I am... it just doesn't feel right."

Curiosity might get the better of him, he realizes even as he moves closer to see if he can see what she sees inscribed in her skin. "What doesn't feel right about it?"

"Everything." He's sure the answer is a dodge but she follows it up by reaching out to lay her hand on his cheek. The movement isn't so fast that he doesn't see it coming but it is unexpected all the same. Her skin _feels_ human against his synthetic flesh and he wonders if 'newly human' as she claims to be, she can tell the difference. Her thumb sweeps across his cheek as she asks, "Do you feel human?"

That's the big question, isn't it? More human than a MX, more machine than any man. He has hopes and dreams, even fears. Cognitively he can't deny that he is not human when he is capable of so many things they simply are not. But if he wants to be human, is it at the expense of those parts?

In his silence, her hands begin exploring his frame. First his face, then his ear. For a moment her fingertips brush through his hair and down the back of his neck. Both hands converge high on his chest, pushing his jacket slightly further apart as she explores the musculature of his chest. She sweeps under the jacket to his shoulders before curling back in tracing down the middle to his waist.

He's still watching her watch her fingers as her hands spread back out again to find his sides. They travel up and over and curve down again to find his hips. He wonders what exactly the point of this exercise is when her hands are moving over his shirt and not his skin.

Either she doesn't know it's inappropriate or she simply doesn't care because when he doesn't stop her, she lets her hands slide over the outside of his legs. They go as far as they can reach before coming inward of their own accord and sweeping upwards over the front of him. Her fingers brush along the inseam of his pants, not hard but hard enough that she remarks, "Made like a man."

"Yes," he smiles for some reason he can't exactly name.

Her hand seem to find a home base at the waistline of his pants. "How do you know I'm human?" she asks, looking up into his eyes.

"I checked you out." Maybe there's a bit of intentional double entendre there before he continues, clarifying, "According to all my sensory data, you are human."

"But how would you know," she asks, "If you've never met one of my kind before?"

Fair enough point. Taking her question as well as her own behavior as an invitation to investigate further, he puts both his hands on her face.

To the outside observer, he is simply mirroring her touch as he explores the lift of her cheeks, the angle of her jaw, the soft line of her mouth. Inside his head are sensors and readouts and the collation of data being held in contrast to all known parameters that make someone human.

He notices the gentle arch of her back and the catch of her breath as his hands sweep over her breast. He doesn't miss the curl of her fingers into the table when he sweeps along the inner part of her legs.

He looks up and meets her gaze only to be struck by the sense of childish _waiting_ there: the intensity and the focus of her curiosity, the openness to possibility even with the stubborn determination that she is right. "You still look human to me," he pronounces with no small amount of humor in his voice.

"You're sure you're not just judging a book by its cover?" she quips back, a little lift to the corner of her mouth catching him by surprise.

That's when he finds himself looking at her leather jacket. Like her, his examination was still over and through her clothes. True, they shouldn't really be an obstacle, not with the equipment he possesses, not with the irrelevance of this test, but he finds himself wondering if it would make a difference if she took it off.

Noticing his gaze, she sits up straighter as her hands go to the zipper, pulling it down decisively without too much haste. She shrugs it off to reveal a thin tank top hugged tight to her subtle curves. Dorian doesn't have too much time to process this before it _also_ comes off, finally leaving her in just a black demi bra.

"Now you," she says with a nod towards his chest before looking up again to meet his eye.

There's that dangerous curiosity again, prompting him to ask, "Why?"

"I want to be sure you're not human too."

He's not sure he believes her but a sort of amused indulgence leads him to take first his jacket, then his shirt off. That flicker of her eyes over his newly bared chest seems all too human to him but then he supposes that objectively she could say the same about his own lingering stares.

They start over again, this time exploring each other's upper bodies skin to skin. They go even slower, this time tracing the musculature, the definite press of fingers and palms warm and certain as they outline the shape of breast, shoulder, abs.

"My skin is synthetic," Dorian prompts after this exploration is done.

"It's still nice," Quorra informs him with a smile as she traces over his hips.

Maybe that smile is why he takes her boots off. Maybe its why he climbs up on the table with her after she peels her pants and both pieces of her underwear off. He's only toed his shoes off before he does but she seems all too ready to help him with the rest. Soon they're both stark naked on the lab table starting their exploration all over again.

He was built with equipment but as yet never tested its function. He can admit its a little startling and fascinating feeling his cock harden under light exploratory sweeps of her fingers then eventually under the full, sure grip of her hand.

He throws out the databases and collects his own data on the chemical composition of her sweat, the way it tastes on his tongue as he teases her breast. Its not long before his mouth sweeps lower still to discover new tastes, new muscle flutters and spasms, new passionate sounds. He finds he likes the way her fingers fist in his hair, the strange sharp sensation of every little tug sending a trill of pleasure after each microsecond of pain.

Eventually she turns him over and sinks down onto his cock with a low, satisfied moan. Any thought of being discovered or possible reprisals is driven from his head as she starts to move with him, fingers curling into his shoulders as she rides him hard and fast.

Somehow they end up flipped before its over, her legs folded high over his back as he struggles to find enough space for each thrust without truly wanting to be free of her grip. They damn near fall off the table before she comes and his hand still slips off the corner as she whispers in his ear, free hand massaging his balls to help speed him along to his own end.

"You feel human to me," she whispers while he's sprawled on top of her once they've finally caught their breath.

"You too," he murmurs back, pressing one last kiss over her still fluttering heart before the lab door slides open then shut.


End file.
